


If Only For A Second

by Chechilia



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Magic, Major Character Injury, Timers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 16:50:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10644030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chechilia/pseuds/Chechilia
Summary: Rare are the people wearing a timer on their forearm. Even more are those able to see it.Merlin is one of them. For as long as he can remember, he's known the exact number of seconds separating him from his death.What he knows, too, is that his death has been locked : he is destined to die alone.However, when the time comes, Arthur doesn't accept it.And he can save Merlin, he knows, if only he can reach him in time.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For now, this is a stand alone. However, I may expand in this universe. Enjoy !

Merlin looked one last time at the watch that looped around his wrist.

The clock emboldened in a thick leather bracelet had been a gift he had bought himself when he had received his father's inheritance. He had found it fitting, in an ironical way. Two sets of numbers, one on each arm. One endless, one set to reach its end. One showing the time of the day, the other a slow trickle that counted down the seconds separating him from his death.

A bitter smile graced Merlin's lips at the thought. There had been a time he would have given anything not to be able to see it, not to have that terrifying power, courtesy of his father. He could still remember his mother's face when he had asked her, barely five years old at the time, why there were numbers on his forearm. His mother hadn't been able to see it, of course, but she had understood, and all blood had been drained from her face when he had told her what, exactly, the numbers were. She had cried a lot, afterwards, and it had only been years later that Merlin had understood the meaning of his gift, and thus his mother's reaction. What mother wouldn't have had the same, learning that her son was destined to die young ?

Merlin shook his head to clear his mind. It wouldn't do him any good to dwell on what could have been now. It was almost time.

He bent down to tighten his combat boots, checked the slide of his blades in the sheath attached to his chins and thighs and the one of his saber resting on his back. He could almost hear it chant, calling for blood. What a foolish thought.

Sighing, Merlin took his rifle and passed the strap around his neck. He grabbed his gun and loaded it, making sure he wouldn't be caught off guard by an unexpected lack of bullets. The Resistance had trained him well, he knew to count each and every one of his shots. He also knew not to miss his target, but even him couldn't be certain of his accuracy in the middle of a fight against so many opponents.  
It would have to do, though. He knew he was to die, but would die proudly. He would die with the blood of his enemies on his hands, fighting until he'd be the last one standing.

Looking one last time around the empty house, he allowed himself a few seconds to say goodbye. He had been happy there, as a child, before his father's murder and his mother's sickness. It had been his home, and the only place he'd ever felt safe - along with Arthur's arms. But Arthur wasn't there - he'd made no promises - and it was time.

Merlin knew it all along, anyway : he would end as he had lived.

Alone.

Refusing to let his resolve crumble, he tightened his red kerchief and walked out the front door.

***

Arthur entered his father's office wearily, a frown etched on his brow. It wasn't the first time that he'd been called there to meet the very head of the government, but this time it had been Nimueh, and not his father's secretary, that had passed on the message.

That alone was enough to worry him. But he couldn't shake the feeling that something was horribly wrong, a tragedy waiting to happen. His father wasn't there, and he was becoming restless. Why had he been summoned ? What did his father want ? And where the hell was he ? Merlin was waiting for him, he was supposed to go find him, not stand there waiting for an hypothetical order of mission.

Thinking of Merlin made the uneasy feeling in his chest grow stronger. Without meaning to, he grabbed his phone to check for any message, but there was none. He thought for a second to call Nimueh back and ask for an explanation, but before he even dialed the number, the door to his father's office burst open. Except it wasn't his father nor Nimueh that stood in the doorway, but his very own sister, looking disheveled and out of breath. There was a wild gleam in her eyes, and she seemed desperate.

'' Morgana ! ''

He ran to her.

'' What happened ? Is it father ? Tell me ! ''

Morgana just stared at him, aghast and unseeing, until she seemed to snap out of whatever trance she's been in and grabbed his arm.

'' Arthur '' she said, tone urgent '' I need you to listen to me. It's important. ''

She looked scared in a way he'd never seen her.

'' It's Merlin '' she said in a rush '' his timer, he's going to fight now, and he's not going to make it.''

Cold settled in Arthur's stomach like ice, freezing him in place.

'' Arthur, listen ! You have to find him. He's destined to die alone, Arthur ! You have to reach him in time, please ! ''

Eyes wide, Arthur stared at his sister until the words registered. Merlin. He could still save Merlin. He didn't ask why or how. There wasn't time for questions.

'' Arthur, go ! ''.

He started running.

***

Merlin froze as soon as he stepped out of the house. He had expected the enemies that faced him, he knew it was going to be a hard fight, but he had underestimated the number of his opponents.

Five full squadrons were facing him, for a total of one hundred men and women armed to the teeth with guns and rifles and machetes and knives. There wasn't a chance in hell that he was getting out of this alive, he knew it.

A wry smile split his lips. He wasn't supposed to. His timer was reaching its limit. He sent a silent word of love to Arthur, suddenly glad that he wasn't there with him to see him die.

Merlin let his gaze wander, sizing his opponents. His eyes fell on the captain of the troops. He looked incredibly young in his uniform, like a soldier barely out of school. Alone, he was no match against Merlin.

'' Before we start '' he said, throat tight but voice steady '' you have to ask yourselves. Are you ready to die for this, for having me killed? You can leave now, I won't pursue you. But know that if you stay, there will be no mercy. I won't spare your lives. And you will die. ''

Some seemed surprised by his statement, but others scoffed. They couldn't know the truth : they were sent to die with him for he was destined to die alone. He would survive them all, even if it was for a handful of seconds. They were all so young, they didn't know that they were being manipulated, tricked, by a powerful sorceress that possessed such an ugly mind.

No one moved, and Merlin stood there, resigned. He felt a tingle on his arm. The time was close. He took a deep breath to steel himself and raised his gun.

***

Arthur had barely stepped out of the office that an arm grabbed him and tugged him toward the nearest corridor. Having recognized Leon, he didn't slow down and let his second fall into step beside him.

'' Arthur '' he said, eyes wide and fearful '' it's Merlin... ''.

'' I know '' Arthur cut him '' Morgana told me ''.

'' No, you don't. He can't fight them all, Arthur ! ''

'' Fight whom, exactly ? '' Arthur asked, even if he already knew the answer.

" It's Nimueh '' Leon answered, breathing even despite their speed. '' She sent five squadrons to him. And... "

He trailed off and bit his lip, eyes for a second masked by his curly red hair, before he added :

" They received the order to kill. ''

As they ran down the stairs to finally step out of the building, Arthur's mind blanked. Terror seeped into his bones, irrational fear that drowned the knowledge that he could still save Merlin. Adrenaline flowed inside him, and he sped up.

'' Arthur ! '' Leon called, urgent. '' Don't panic ! You know your pace. You know how fast you can run. What good will you be once we find him if you can't even stand on your own legs ? ''

Arthur ground his teeth but he knew Leon was right. He slowed down. Barely.

'' Come on, Arthur. We'll get to him. ''

'' And what if Merlin can't hold on until we arrive ? What then ? ''

Arthur wasn't even aware that he was trembling. Him, the commander of the entire army, fearless and fierce in every fight, couldn't contain his nerves at the mere idea of Merlin fighting.

A mirthless smile tugged at his lips. He wasn't so keen on staying alone now, was he ?

'' He's been trained, Arthur, you know that. He's powerful. You've seen him fight, you know he can hold his own against even our best men. Hell, he's an even match against you, if not better ! He'll manage. You have to believe that. ''

Arthur didn't answer. Of course, he knew that. Merlin was the best fighter he'd ever encountered, and that alone was saying something. Beside, he had his magic. But being able to slow down time or accelerate his own movements wouldn't be enough. And he knew that magic would tire Merlin quickly, nevermind how powerful he was.

Thinking of Merlin's magic opened a tightly closed door inside him, and memories flowed his mind. The first time he had seen him, eyes glowing gold as he had slowed time to take him out of the way of a bullet, and every time after. The day he had learnt of Merlin's childhood and the death of his parents, of how Merlin had been raised as a part of the Resistance and had never known anything else.

The night that had followed, Merlin above him, moaning brokenly as Arthur drove restlessly into him, and the seconds after, Merlin's eyes a shimmering gold as he came, head thrown back, mouth open on a soundless scream. The way Merlin had rested his head on his chest, breathing heavily. The way his voice had trembled when he'd told Arthur, his own question. The way he had cried when Merlin had answered him, voice thin and soft, _soon_.

Breathing deeply, heart hammering in his chest and tears prickling in the corner of his eyes, Arthur shrugged off his worry and focused on his pace.

***

The first shot took out the commander of the five squadrons. He went down without a sound, blood streaming from his neck, his mouth rounded in surprise, his eyes wide with fear.

But Merlin didn't have time for sympathy. Knowing that the shock wouldn't last, he pivoted on his feet and shot two more soldiers, before throwing himself on the ground and rolling away to avoid a row of bullets. Jumping on his feet, he slid his gun in his holster - three bullets used, three more to go, he'd counted - and in the same movement grabbed the handle of a knife at the small of his back.

In the next instant the soldiers were on him. He blocked the first blow with his elbow, bent his head to escape the slice of a blade and stabbed three times. The neck, the heart and the groin. The man died before touching the ground, but already Merlin had moved on onto another opponent.

This time the woman, who seemed quite experienced, didn't try to attack him from the front, preferring circling around him, watching him fight against some underlings until she had an opportunity. The latter came when Merlin hesitated a split second, having recognized one of the soldier as a man that had brought Arthur coffee once. By the time he had managed to shrug off his hesitation, the woman had already hit. The blade grazed his arm, as he impossibly twisted his body to avoid the worst of the blow. The superficial wound burned nonetheless, but it wasn't enough to distract a fighter like him. Both the soldier and the woman died from his hand and without remorse, throat slit by the thread of his blade.

Alone in the middle of so many adversaries, Merlin knew he had an advantage : his opponents couldn't risk firing a gun or a rifle without touching one of their own. Merlin didn't have such boundaries. He grabbed his rifle and fired. The first row of soldiers crumpled to the ground, as did a second and a third. Out of munition, he let go of the rifle and jumped back into the melee, the gun having given him a few precious seconds to regain his breath.

***

Arthur's thighs were burning with the strain as he was running at his fastest pace. Even Leon, as well trained as him, had trouble following : his breathing came short and fast, and sweat was running down his face. He didn't stop or asked Arthur to slow down through, knowing that his commander wouldn't even consider it. Not if Merlin's life was on the line.

So caught up he was with the idea of Merlin being in danger - maybe already dying, maybe already dead - Arthur almost didn't notice the soldiers readying themselves to fight as he round a corner. Only his insanely hard training and natural capacities allowed him to throw himself on the ground in time, avoiding a row of bullets. Leon, following close behind, swore before jumping under cover behind a trashcan.

Arthur, on the other side of the street, drew his gun and fired a few warning shots. He didn't bother to aim, for in the split second it had taken him to cross the street, he had recognized the man facing him.

'' For fuck's sake, Galahad, it's me ! '' he shouted.

He heard a gasp, and then :

'' Commander ! As an order from the High Priestess Nimueh, I cannot let you pass ! ''.

Arthur swore under his breath. He didn't have time. He was about to move when he caught a sign from Leon.

'' Go '' his second mouthed. And then : '' Galahad ? It's Leon. I'm getting out now, do not shoot.''

Leon barely heard Arthur's '' Thank you '' as he stepped out of cover. He breathed a sigh of relief when the attention of the soldiers focused on him, allowing Arthur to escape.

And Arthur ran, trusting Leon to handle the soldiers, feet pounding on the pavement as he pushed his body to its limits.

He didn't look back.

***

Merlin was tiring.

It didn't matter that he had an almost inhuman strength or a magic so powerful it made some of his kin quiver in fear. Alone against five squadrons, he was bound to make a mistake at some point. Several, even, and each had resulted in an injury, some deeper than others. He was dripping blood and his head was spinning, but he didn't stop. He couldn't, no if he wanted a chance, however slim, to take all the soldiers with him.

He registered too late the enemy coming behind him, the fallen soldiers leaving space behind to move undeterred. The blow caught him unaware, the blade slicing his left biceps, damaging the muscle. He swore under his breath and, ignoring the pain, took down one more soldier.

There weren't many left, but their number didn't matter. The fact was, he was tired and sore and out of breath and hurt, and he knew he'd fall soon. He could feel the numbers ticking down on his forearm, reaching the end, at the same time as the soldiers died, one by one.

And suddenly there were only five remaining, the best fighters of all, strong and skilled and experienced in a way he wasn't. He could only count on his magic, for a few more seconds, rely on his abilities to hold on still, only the time to take down five - no, four, three - enemies...

The shot took him by surprise. The bullet pierced his chest, tearing his lung and grazing his heart. Blood slowly began to spread on his shirt, tainting it red. Grounding his teeth against the inhuman pain, he drew his gun and fired. Three shots left, and each one touched its target.

Only left alive on the battlefield, he thought of Arthur.

" Goodbye " he murmured to the wind.

A smile graced his lips, and he dropped to the ground.

***

Nearing Merlin's house, Arthur dropped all pretense of composure as he ran toward the training grounds. Blood was pounding in his ears, and sweat was dripping down the side of his face, tracing patterns in the dirt that marred his golden skin. Fear was like ice in his veins, and all the while his body was burning.

He knew he didn't have much time. He just didn't know how little. Because there was a countdown on Merlin's forearm, and...

_6_

He didn't know just how close it was to the end. So he kept on running...

_5_

Until, in the distance, he could see the fight. There were so many bodies littering the ground and he didn't care, for one of the men he could still see standing, fighting still against all odds, was Merlin. His Merlin.

Another man fell...

_4_

And he didn't have the air to scream as one of the soldiers aimed his gun and fired. He saw the bullet hitting Merlin's chest, Merlin drawing his gun, firing...

Once

_3_

Twice

_2_

And a third time before he fell to the ground.

_1_

Arthur skidded to a stop beside Merlin, falling on his knees, the tears streaming down his cheeks preventing him from seeing his beloved's face. Merlin's eyes were closed, the bright blue hidden under his eyelids.

Arthur screamed.

***

The world faded from Arthur's eyes. He wiped his tears with the back of a trembling hand, gaze falling on Merlin. He looked peaceful there, an almost smile bowing his full lips, pink still, as if blood hadn't yet stopped to run through his body. He lay still as if sleeping, and Arthur's heart clenched at the mere thought of never hearing Merlin whisper in his sleep again. A sob strangled him, worse than the inhuman howl that had escaped his chest constricted by grief.

Arthur bent down, slowly pressing his lips against Merlin's forehead.

" I'm sorry " he whispered, voice broken. " I wish I'd reached you on time, if only... "

His gaze fell on Merlin's wrist and his eyes widened.

_If only for a second._

The blood trickling down Merlin's arms had taken shape, a deep dark red number standing out against Merlin's impossibly pale skin.

_1._

The timer hadn't reached its end. Arthur let a second pass, trembling, then another and another and the number didn't change. Not daring to hope, Arthur put Merlin's head on his lap. With shaking fingers, he took off Merlin's kerchief, baring his neck, and tenderly pressed against his pulse point.

He felt a beat then, and another, like the flutter of a bird's wing, uncertain but steady, slow but strong. Would he have been standing, the plain emotion - relief and joy and love mingling together - that washed over him would have cut his legs under him.

Arthur hauled Merlin up in his arms, tightening his hold when he felt Merlin stir, tears flowing freely from his eyes. Merlin was still badly injured, and was in need of medical assistance, but he would survive, Arthur knew.

There would be a time to take care of Nimueh later. Morgana's warning had given him a sole second of advance, and it had been enough.

Merlin had been destined to die alone. Hugged tight against Arthur's chest, Merlin wasn't alone anymore. Arthur had made it on time.

Merlin wouldn't die.

He wouldn't die, and Arthur gave a half smile when he noticed the watch broken on Merlin's wrist.


End file.
